


Handiwork

by notaparty



Category: DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First time (with each other), Friends to Lovers, One Shot, basically a long vehicle for smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 12:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaparty/pseuds/notaparty
Summary: Lois expected Clark to put her desk together with ease. She didn't anticipate that watching him do it would make her confused as hell about her feelings toward him.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Lois Lane
Comments: 3
Kudos: 64





	Handiwork

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea why I wrote this?? I think I just wanted a Clois first time (together) fic and couldn't get the nugget of Lois watching Clark put together a desk for her out of my head. So this came out and I figured I should post it.
> 
> This is my first Clois fic and my first posted fic in a while, so I hope it's not a complete disaster character-wise. Totally unconnected from canon, btw.

I actually needed help building something the first time. After grumbling about the terrible instructions that had come with my brand new dresser for a few days, Clark offered to help me put it together.

So that Saturday afternoon, he came over with a six pack of beer and his toolbox (which he owned and actually used on a regular basis) and looked at the mess I'd attempted to put together.

“Lois, what the heck did you try to do?” He asked, a deep chuckle bubbling up his throat. He picked up one of the two pieces I'd tried to put together, then gently wedged them apart. He hadn’t even looked at the directions yet.

I shrugged. “I'm a journalist, not a carpenter.”

He grinned in that way that made me feel genuinely weak in the knees. I didn't think that actually happened, but Clark’s presence did a lot of things to me that I hadn't felt before. Particularly when he was in my bedroom wielding a screwdriver, wearing his worn jeans and flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He was in his Clark-mode—not office-Clark, who didn’t speak much to anyone besides me or Jimmy, or Superman, who exuded such power that you could only stop and stare. He was just my best friend, the guy who would help me out _and_ bring beer. The guy who clearly had no idea what the whole sleeves-rolled-up-lumberjack vibe did to people’s hormones, including mine, apparently.

Granted, he seemed oblivious to his attractiveness, or at least the nice Kansas boy in him didn’t go around flirting with everyone who flirted with him.

I studied his profile as he worked, his face in deep concentration. He had a furrow in his brow, his hands working steadily and efficiently. He handled even the tiniest of nails easily, despite how big his hands were. The dresser was a step up from IKEA, so it wasn't extremely difficult, but it was hard enough for me to be impressed with how easily he did it. He barely looked at the directions, except to confirm that what he was doing was right.

It woke up something primal in me, those big hands working capably to build something. His long, thick fingers, broad palms. His tidy nails. And good god, his forearms. The muscles moving under his skin, the veins, the hair. All of it. I took those images and immediately tucked them into my fantasy bank for later. If he could work this well with his hands on my dresser, could he use those magic hands on my body just as well?

I even had to leave the room to pull myself together. I could _not_ jump Clark’s bones. Ok yes, I had a little crush on him, but it was pretty innocent, the way you get crushes on celebrities. He was the best friend I’d ever had, and I’d be devastated if I did something that ruined that.

It was just stray horniness. He was doing a very manly thing in my apartment when I hadn’t had a man in my bed in months, simple as that. Once we were back in the office, or once we went to a bar with Jimmy, I would feel my normal level of attraction to him—the little flutter in my belly when he smiled, or the way I couldn’t help but watch him in any room we were in. Normal things when your best friend also happened to be hot.

I was so sure I was right about my dry spell causing that lust aberration that I asked Clark if he could help me put up some floating shelves in my apartment a couple weeks later, just to show myself that I was under control again. I’d hooked up with some guy from college I’d reconnected with, and scratched that itch. It wasn’t great, but it was good enough for me to feel in control of myself.

And then all of that control went out the window when Clark showed up wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. He wore t-shirts at the office, but under sweaters or ill-fitting button-downs to conceal the fact that he was built. This t-shirt fit him like a glove, stretching across those broad shoulders and showing just enough of his biceps for me to deeply regret asking him over.

And did I mention that he always smelled amazing? Like all the best parts of masculine smells, rolled into one.

Yeah, I screwed up.

Watching him put up shelves was even worse for my poor hormones. There was the whole building thing factor, then there was the fact that he had to reach up, showing off his strong back, tapering down to his trim waist. And his juicy ass. The band of his boxers (flannel, unsurprisingly) peeped out from the waistband of his jeans. I wanted to run my hand along the strip of exposed skin.

I tucked the image into my fantasy bank, which I’d been dipping into at night quite a bit lately.

“Hand me that, will you?” Clark suddenly turned and looked at me. There was no way he didn’t see me staring a hole in his butt, but bless him, he acted like he didn’t notice.

I handed him a little bag of screws, and our hands brushed. I pulled back like we’d just shocked each other.

“Everything okay?” Clark asked, gently hammering a plastic thing into a hole he put in the wall. I was always amazed at how much control he had over his strength.

“Yeah, why?”

“You seem a little spaced out.” The corner of his mouth quirked up, revealing one of his dimples. “You only look like that when you’re wrestling with something.”

Damn him for knowing me so well.

“Just…” I shrugged, crossing my arms. “Stuff.”

“Stuff.” He nodded.

We looked at each other for a few beats, the sounds of whatever playlist he’d chosen far in the background. Our looks communicated a lot, usually things like, “is this guy for real?” or “shit’s about to hit the fan.” But this one? I had no idea what was going on in his head, or any lead, and it was unnerving as hell. His face sat right in the middle of the Clark facial expression matrix at neutral, almost to mathematical precision.

He went back to putting my shelves up, finishing them soon after whatever our weird stare-off was.

“All done. These should each hold about…” He glanced at my stack of books on the floor.“Ten hardcovers, I’d say. Any more than that and they’ll come crashing down.”

“And startle the shit out of me?” I said.

“Yep.” He grinned and started putting his tools away. “But if you do get scared, you can just text me and I’ll fight mean ole gravity for you, even if it’s two AM.”

“You’d drop everything to come help save me from my own momentary lapse into stupidity?” I asked, putting my hand to my chest like a southern debutante moments from swooning. “I’m flattered.”

“I’d do a lot of things for you, Lois,” he said back.

His eyes were serious for a flicker of a second, but his mouth smiled. His blue eyes bored into me for another moment before he went back to tidying up his stuff.

I understood that look, even though I’d never seen it on Clark, and it made my breath hitch. That look had heat behind it, a weight that made his words zing through my body. Usually the words that came with that look were, “let’s get out of here,” or “want to come back to my place for a drink?”

For once, I was speechless. Was I imagining everything? This was Clark. I knew he wasn’t a complete virgin or anything — in fact, I knew that he lost his virginity in his freaking truck after homecoming his senior year of high school, which sounds _so_ Smallville — but he was the kind of guy who wouldn’t make the first move. Or at least that was what the evidence pointed to. He got hit on a lot, and even if I could tell he thought the woman was attractive, he never pursued anything.

I knew he was literally an alien, but sometimes, I was shocked at how confusing he was to me.

“Shoot, I have to go,” Clark said, looking out the window. He must have heard something I couldn’t.

“Superman stuff?”

“Yeah.” He paused, looking at his toolkit. “Can I come back for this?”

“Yeah, it’s not like I’m going to use it,” I said with a laugh that sounded much more strangled than I intended it to.

“Cool.” He gave me a pat on the back and slipped past me, toward the door. “See you around.“

And he left.

I stared at my door, feeling a blend of confusion and arousal, a bizarre combination. But I did have clarity about something now: I definitely wanted to fuck Clark and it wasn’t just stray horniness that pointed in his direction.

Clark was gone for a while — he claimed he was “working from home” when in reality, I saw reports of Superman in South America. It scared the hell out of me, but he was fine. His toolkit sat underneath my shelves, an occasional reminder of whatever was going on between us. Or maybe just from me. I wracked my brain, reliving our recent interactions for moments where he gave off sexual energy vibes, and came up empty.

I needed an outside opinion, and a liquored up Jimmy had a lot of them. I didn’t have to push him that far — the office that week had been an absolute shit show, especially for him — so he was jonesing for a drink by the time Friday afternoon came around.

Both of us took full advantage of happy hour at the shitty bar a couple blocks from the office. Five dollar beers. Two dollar shots. We were drinking for effect, not for taste, and soon enough, we got our intended effect and more. A lot more.

“Lois, why did we drink this much?” Jimmy asked, immediately after downing the last of his fourth beer. “We need our chaperone.”

The running joke was that Clark was our chaperone. Since he couldn’t get drunk, he usually kept us from getting too sloshed too fast with a few gentle suggestions. We clearly needed him, because I was feeling way too loose for seven in the evening. But that was kind of my goal, even though the room was spinning a little bit.

“I need to ask you about Clark,” I said, sipping my beer. “And whether you’ve noticed something.”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you ever think he’s into me? Like, sexually,” I said, resting my elbow on our table. “I got weird vibes from him the last time we saw each other.”

“I…what weird vibes?” He asked, his brow furrowing. I noticed he started busying his hands by playing with an extra coaster on the table. Suspicious.

“Just his look. He was helping me put up my shelves and gave me this look like he wanted to, you know.” I made a vague hand gesture. “Do things to me, naked. I’m not an idiot and I’ve been hit on before. I’ve never seen Clark like that.”

Jimmy stared at me blankly for so long that I thought he hadn’t heard me, then rested his forehead on the table, right in the middle of a condensation puddle his beer had left.

“Lois. _Lois_,” he said without lifting his head.

“What?” I gently tugged his hair so he’d sit back up. At least I hope it was gentle. “What’s wrong?”

He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, his eyes hazy with alcohol.

“Lois, you figured out he was Superman faster than you figured out that he’s wanted to bone you forever,” Jimmy said, tossing back the last of his beer. “How is that possible?”

“What?” I knew I looked stupid with my mouth opening and closing, unable to form words besides ‘what’, but Jimmy was also too drunk to care.

He sighed and sat back in his chair, only to stand a second later.

“I’m getting us one more shot.”

The bar was getting busy, so I was left alone with my thoughts for a while when he was up getting our latest poor decision.

So, Clark wanted to sleep with me. And it was obvious to Jimmy? How did I miss all of the cues? Clark was extremely good at keeping secrets, but I’d figured out the biggest freaking secret he had with some stubbornness and work.

There was no way I would miss this, especially if it was going on for as long as Jimmy claimed. I’d known about his alter ego for what, three years now? And I’d known Clark for six years total. In six years, I never got a hint that there was something there?

Then again, his feelings for me were never emblazoned across every newspaper on earth. I couldn’t follow a trail if he didn’t leave one.

“Drink this, and buckle up.” Jimmy put down a shot in front of me and sat back down. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“I think you’re full of shit,” I said once the burn of the shot subsided. “There’s no way I wouldn’t know that Clark wanted to fuck me.”

“Yeah, there is a way, and it’s the fact that we’re having this conversation right now,” Jimmy said.

“But how do you know?”

“He told me,” he said with a shrug. “Years ago.”

“He _told_ you? _Years_ ago?” My voice got so loud that the girls at the table a few feet away stopped talking for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because that would be breaking the friendship code. I can’t run and tell you something that he would have to tell you himself when he was ready.”

“You literally just did that.”

“You figured it out, so I didn’t want to flat out lie. And I’m drunk.”

“Shit.” I ran a hand over my face, my heart pounding in my chest. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Hell if I know. When he first told me, he thought you were way out of his league and didn’t want to screw up the friendship.”

Shit. Also, the idea of me being out of his league was a little laughable. Had he seen his body? Had he seen his own freaking face? Or heard himself talk? Or known himself at all?

“But if he suddenly hinted it to me after all these years, something must have shifted in his head. But what?” I asked, half to myself.

“Well, do you want to bone him too?” He asked. “Could he have picked up on it?”

I face flushed, and my brain and my mouth suddenly felt disconnected. I knew I did — so why was it weird to say aloud?

“I’m guessing yes?” Jimmy grins, looking like he just won the lottery. “Finally. _Finally_ you’ve both realized you’re in love with each other.”

“_In love_?” I ask, finally finding my voice again because Jimmy was talking out of his ass. “Sex and love are two different things. I want to sleep with him and I care for him as a friend.”

“Obviously sex and love are different.” He rolled his eyes. “But can you honestly say that you don’t feel something towards him? Like more than sex or more than friendship? Because wanting to bone someone and being their friend can be friends with benefits. You wouldn’t want that with Clark.”

I paused. Normally anyone telling me what I want or don’t want would be infuriating, but this was Jimmy.

And he was absolutely right.

“Shit.” I pressed my face into my hands. “What do I do?”

“Tell him so I can actually hang out with you two without choking on the sexual tension,” Jimmy said, earning an eyebrow raise from me.

“You don’t think his feelings have changed? Maybe it’s just lust and not a romantic thing. What if I tell him how I feel and it screws up our friendship?” I asked.

“I’m not sure of many things, but I’m positive you telling him would be a very good thing,” he said. “But when you’re sober. Sleep on it.”

We went home soon after that, picking up pizza before we split up. I chugged some water, but instead of going to bed, I turned on my TV and slid under a blanket on the couch. It was only nine anyway. I watched Food Network, my eyes on the screen but not really taking anything in. I wanted to talk to Clark, _now_. But Jimmy was right — doing it when I was drunk probably wasn’t the best idea.

I fell asleep hard, and woke up groggy at two in the morning. I always woke up halfway through the night when I was drunk and could never fall back asleep. I was mostly sober at this point, and had some leftover pizza to get myself all the way there. Thank god I didn’t have a hangover. But I did have to pee.

I shuffled to my bathroom and did my business, flushing. My building was old, so the toilet always sounded weird when I flushed. But then, it kept sounding weird. I turned and saw water gushing out of a pipe behind it.

“Mother_fucker_,” I hissed.

At least it was just regular water and not pee. Or maybe it was 1% pee, but I guessed that wasn’t bad, all things considered. There was a ton of water. I threw a towel on the ground to prevent the water from going into the hall and grabbed my phone to call my super.

“Sorry, we can’t get a guy out there until tomorrow. You good til then?” My super asked. I could hear his TV playing in the background, clearly able to come out and just look, and it made my blood start to boil. But what good would it be for me to argue with him? I would still have this water all over my bathroom floor and I’d feel maybe 5% better.

So I hung up and stared into my bathroom. The towel keeping the flood of water from surging into my hall was getting more and more soaked.

Ugh.

It was probably a pipe somewhere, right? I went back into my living room and found Clark’s tool kit that he hadn’t picked up yet, pausing before I picked it up. If I tried to fix it, I’d probably screw it up and make things worse, so logically, I should have called Clark. But seeing him so soon after my conversation with Jimmy made my heart race in the worst way. Plus, I wasn’t even sure he was back from his Superman stuff, though I had gotten an email from him around the time I left the office.

But also: (extremely diluted) pee water all on the floor of my bathroom, and no help in sight.

So, I called Clark.

“Hey, Lo,” Clark said after one ring. He sounded wide awake, which I knew he was — he needed about four hours of sleep per day, snuck in bits in pieces or in one stretch, which was the only reason he could hit deadlines.

“Hey, um…” I paused. “Can you help me with something? My bathroom’s kind of exploding and my building management is pretty useless.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ve still got my tools there, right?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“Ok, be there soon.”

And he hung up before defining what “soon” meant. Soon for Clark could have been a half hour or literally ten minutes. Shit.

I looked down at myself. I was wearing a nightgown sort of thing, but it wasn’t sexy. I’d picked it up at a Walmart in Ohio when I was doing some investigating and realized I hadn’t packed something to wear to bed. It looked like a long baseball t-shirt, hitting me around mid-thigh, a little loose around my body. I still had it for that reason — I could go out to the deli on the corner without having to change clothes, and it was super soft. My hair was in a messy bun, and I wasn’t wearing a bra. At least I hadn’t bothered to remove my makeup before passing out on the couch.

I darted to my bedroom and yanked open my dresser. I hardly had any clean clothes, so the least I could do was put on a bra. I got the last hook closed right when I heard Clark knock on the door.

I yanked open the door to find Clark standing there, funnily enough, wearing a baseball shirt similar to mine and sweats.

“Twins,” he said, gesturing to my shirt-dress with a smile.

He made it look better. Infinitely better. The 3/4 length sleeves of his shirt were pushed up just below his elbows, exposing his forearms, and it was _just_ tight enough to toe the line between obscene and appropriate, depending on how you thought about him.

I led him to my bathroom, and he let out a low whistle when he saw the disaster.

“At least it’s clean water,” he said, sliding off his shoes and socks before walking in.

“It might be 1% pee.”

“Oh, well. There’s a lot worse in the water here than pee.” He shrugged.

He squatted down next to my toilet and took a look at the spot where water was pouring out. His brow furrowed a little bit and the metal around the small hole started melting on its own. When the hole was closed, the water stopped trickling out. Oh, heat vision. For some reason, I always thought I would be able to see it, but I didn’t see the heat my microwave generated. So why would I see his heat vision?

“Oh?” I couldn’t help but say, watching him stand.

“Yeah, weak pipes. That’ll hold for a bit, at least until someone comes to fix it.” He stepped back out into the hallway. “It’s about to get steamy — just a second.”

Moments later, the puddles evaporated into a heavy blanket of steam, which disappeared into the hallway with a breath. My floor was mostly dry, saving me a lot of clean up. I relaxed, not even realizing how tense I was.

“You’re the best, Clark. Thank you.”

“Not a problem. Literally took two seconds.” He gave me a half-smile. “Did you go out for drinks?”

“Do I smell super boozy?” I asked, sniffing my shirt like I spilled beer all over it.

“Not boozy to a human, but I can tell a little. You’re pretty sober now, though. Plus, you’re watching Food Network at two AM, and you always watch Food Network when you come home after a night out.” He scanned my face, smiling at my exasperated expression. “You’re always so surprised that I know you so well. You’re more predictable than you think.”

“ I don’t like that I’m that predictable. I feel like it ruins my street cred.” I sighed.

“You aren’t predictable to most, if it makes you feel better.”

“It kind of does.” I glanced down the hall, where my TV was still on. “Want to hang out now that you’re here? I’m wide awake now.”

“Sure, why not?”

He followed me to the couch, and sat down next to me. His big body made the couch dip, so we were inches from each other. I could smell him, that clean, fresh air scent he always had, and feel his body heat. What the hell was I thinking, asking him to hang out? I mean, that was what I would have done before I realized that I had feelings for him, so he would have been tipped off that something was wrong if I basically told him to get out.

But now I was stuck in my possibly poor decision, trying to focus on Guy Fieri taking us to Flavortown and not how perfect Clark’s jawline was, or how much I wanted his big hands all over me.

I made it about five minutes before I started fidgeting, then ten minutes more before I felt like I was about to jump out of my skin. I bit my thumbnail, jiggled my leg…I couldn’t take it. Clark had too much presence to ignore him. He seemed entirely unbothered, one long leg curled under his body and his back leaning into the couch. What was going on in his head? Was he thinking about me as much as I was thinking about him?

I was sober enough now, and I _had_ slept on it. For like four hours, but Jimmy didn’t specify how long I should have slept on it.

“Hey, Clark?” I asked.

“Mm?” He took his eyes off the screen and looked at me.

I was going to say something, but it evaporated from my thoughts the instant we locked eyes. The light of the TV in the dark room caught the vibrant blue of his irises, which had me weak-kneed even when I was at my strongest. I was a goner.

I kissed him instead, just a brief one on the lips. He looked genuinely surprised, and for a moment I thought I’d truly fucked up. But then, _that look_ came across his face again, the one that first turned my image of him — of us — upside down.

But instead of kissing me back, he asked, “Did you just kiss me?”

“I’m pretty sure I just did,” I said with a nervous laugh. I fiddled with the hem of my dress. “I wanted to.”

The silence between us was killing me when usually, our silences were comfortable. The reversal made me want to go sprinting out of the room, but as with most things, the only way out was through.

“Do you have feelings for me, Clark? Beyond friendship?” I asked. He looked away from me, but I cupped his cheek so he couldn’t. “You can tell me honestly.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “But if you don’t —”

“I do,” I said, cutting him off. “I really do.”

He grinned boyishly and kissed me back in a way that definitely wasn’t boyish in the slightest. It was hungry, like he had been waiting for years for a taste of me. He had been, I guessed. I figured we would talk a little bit more about what our little confessions meant, but this was fucking great.

One of his big hands cupped my face, while the other slid behind my neck. I shifted over onto my hip to get closer to him, putting my hands on his shoulders. God, he could kiss. Each one was like a perfectly balanced meal, to steal from the Food Network that still blared behind us. Just enough tongue. Just the right number of lip nibbles. Just the right hand placement.

He suddenly swooped me off my hip and onto my back, hovering over me and kissing down the side of my neck. He stopped right at my weak spot, the juncture between my neck and shoulder, sucking and gently raking his teeth against the skin there.

“More,” I said, skimming my hands over his back. Muscle, muscle, and more muscle. If he was getting me this riled up with clothes on, I was going to die if we ended up going all the way.

Based on the very substantial hardness pressed against me, I wasn’t alone. He teased me with his hands while kissing every erogenous zone that I could show in public — my neck, behind my ear, my collarbone. I wanted him to touch me under my nightgown thing, so I pushed his hands to the bottom hem.

“Let me take my time with you,” he said, taking my hands and pinning them above my head with one of his. “I’ll get there.”

“Please, go faster,” I said with a gasp when the hand that wasn’t holding my wrists cupped a breast. I threw a leg over his hip so I could grind my crotch against his, but he stopped me.

“Patience is a virtue.”

“So is sucking on my nipples.”

“Is it, now?” He snorted, removing his face from the crook of my neck and smiling down at me. “I must have missed that one.”

He kissed that spot again, then kissed his way across my neck to the other side. It was so deliciously erotic. The only light came from the flickering TV, putting his body mostly in the dark with some parts highlighted. The heat of his hands and the feeling of his body over mine were almost like a drug. All I wanted was more.

“We're takin' you on a road rockin' trip down to Flavortown, where the gravitational force of bacon warps the laws of space and time!” Guy Fieri shouted on the TV, killing the moment.

Both of us burst out laughing.

“Want to go to my bedroom?” I asked. “It’s firmly outside of Flavortown’s city limits.”

“Sure.” He hopped off of me, and helped me to my feet. “Which way is it?”

I held onto his hand and walked us to my room. It was a total mess, with clothes all over the place and my bed unmade, but Clark’s desk was right next to mine. He knew how I operated.

I didn’t flick on the lights when we walked in, but he did. Suddenly I felt like turning them off. He was built like a freaking god, and I was built like, well, me. I liked my body enough — I had little insecurities like everyone else — but I’d never been with a guy like Clark before.

I shook my head, and let Clark steer me to stand at the edge of the bed. He was obviously attracted to me. Just because I wasn’t shredded didn’t mean he wouldn’t screw me. He liked me. A lot.

That idea made my confidence surge. I peeled off my nightgown slowly, like it was my fanciest piece of lingerie hiding my fanciest bra and panty set instead of my favorite plain beige bra and pink cotton panties I’d gotten at Target ages ago. It had the same effect on Clark, because his eyes widened and that look of lust crossed his face again.

“Am I the only one who’s getting naked here?” I asked, tugging at his shirt.

He peeled his shirt off, and I nearly had to sit down. Being this close to him was a hazard. I didn’t have much time to take him in, because he was kissing me again before his shirt hit the floor. He scooped me up into his arms, lifting me off the floor and tossing me on the bed with an impressive amount of control. He could have literally thrown me into the sun if he wanted to.

I liked it.

“Do you like being handled like that, Lois?” He asked, shucking off his jeans to reveal an almost terrifyingly big tent in his boxers.

“Yes.” I leaned back on my hands, enjoying the show. He had great thighs, too, nice and strong. “Are you a fucking mind reader? Or is my pleasure at you tossing me around like a rag doll that obvious?”

He crawled over me, and gave me a lazy kiss on my chest — not my boobs, the tease — before lifting his head again. A twinge of nervousness popped into his eyes.

“You promise not to get weirded out?”

“Yeah.” We lived in Metropolis and he was literally an alien. How much weirder could it get?

“I use my abilities. I can hear your heart rate speed up or slow down, smell your arousal, sense what areas of your body are experiencing increased blood flow. Things like that. Your body basically screamed that you liked it.” He reached behind me to unclasp my bra, his eyes glazing over a bit when he took in my bare breasts. “It’s also why I know how much you need this.”

Once my bra was off, he finally ran a tongue around my sensitive nipples. I arched into his touch, threading my fingers into his hair as if I had the strength to keep him there. Holy shit, he was right and he wasn’t even living in my body.

“Fuck, that’s not weird, Smallville, that’s brilliant.”

I let my eyes flutter closed as he used his other hand to play with the breast that wasn’t occupied with his mouth. I tried to wiggle into a position where I could get friction where we both needed it, but he kept my legs apart with his and my hips down with a hand on my belly. He didn’t press down, but then again, he didn’t have to. It would be like trying to push up a bar bolted to the wall.

I was soaking wet, and the fact that he knew it just by sensing what was going on in my body made me even more turned on. It bordered on unbearable, but I didn’t want to beg yet. Instead, I made a little sound of protest and he moved down, kissing down my stomach. He reached the waistband of my panties, swiped his tongue along the skin right above it, and skipped right over the place where I wanted him to go.I groaned, gently tugging on his hair.

“What?” Clark asked, even though he knew damn well what he was doing.

“You know what you’re doing, you tease.”

I sighed as he laid kisses on my inner thighs. He finally kissed the fabric over my clit, his thumb running up the rest of my slit. I pulled my panties to the side, but Clark did one better and grabbed the waistband.

“How much do you like these?” He asked, giving the waistband a little tug.

“Not in the slightest.”

He tore the panties clean off my body and threw them to the side before diving back into me. He gently tongued my clit, but it felt like he sent an electrical current through my body. I didn’t know what my body was telling him, but he put more pressure on me with his mouth, deftly hitting my hot spots. And then, he moaned into me, like I was the most delicious treat in the world, and that alone nearly undid me. I wanted to make him make that sound again and again, to touch him, but it didn’t seem like he was going to stop eating me out any time soon.

I propped myself up on my elbows so I could get a good look at him. His eyes were closed in concentration, and he started to tease me, feinting away from the spots he knew could take me over the edge. I gripped my sheets and let out a half-moan, half frustrated sound that made his eyes flick up to mine. There was a mischevious glimmer in them.

“You’re such a —” I started to say before he cut me off by adding a finger inside me. I gasped instead.

“Such a what, Lois?” Clark asked, releasing my clit with a light, wet pop while still working me with his finger. His magical, magical finger.

“Such a — oh _fuck._”

Again, he cut me off with his tongue on my clit. It moved so quickly that I came instantly and loudly, the shock of it bringing tears to my eyes. It went on and on, rolling through my body in waves. And just when I thought I had it under control, he did it _again_.

That bastard turned his tongue into a fucking vibrator. I had never been so happy that he had powers in my life.

He kissed my clit, then along the inside of my thigh before resting his chin on it, a satisfied smile on his wet face.

“I take it that you liked that?” He asked, his voice rough and low.

“I’ll let you know as soon as my brain comes back online,” I said, putting my hand to my chest to calm my breathing.

Before I got myself under control, Clark was crawling over me, still in his boxers. He kissed me, and I tasted myself on his lips. It sent another thrill through my nearly spent body. Nearly, being the operative word. I couldn’t get enough of Clark’s tender kisses, the feeling of his hard dick through the fabric of his boxers, the way he rocked his hips against me almost absently, like he was so needy that he couldn’t help himself.

I slid my hands down his back, letting my fingers dip into the indentation of his spine, down to his underwear. I pushed them down and he helped me take them all the way off. He sat back on his heels and I finally see his cock. It was just as big as it had felt, thick and uncut and fucking perfect.

“Do you have a condom?” He asked, putting his hand on my ankle.

I rolled over, diving toward my side table. Thank god Clark had stirred me into such sexual tizzy that I had that mediocre hookup. I’d bought the condoms for that, and thankfully we banged once, leaving a bunch for me and Clark.

“Wait, is your, uh, cum compatible with latex?” I asked, tossing him a condom.

“Yeah. It’s about the same as the human stuff,” Clark said, quickly (for a human) putting on the condom.

I didn’t know how he tested it, though honestly I could see him doing some sort of science experiment to find out. He was considerate like that.

He kneeled between my legs, wrapping a hand under each of my thighs to pull me closer. He didn’t try to draw out the anticipation. He angled my hips up, positioned his cock, and pushed inside me. He went slowly but steadily, which I appreciated since he was easily the biggest I’d ever had. It hurt a little bit at first, but the burn turned to pleasure when he was finally all the way in.

“God, more, please,” I said.

“Give me a second,” Clark said, taking a deep breath and bowing his head. I realized that he was already on the edge, and I resisted the urge to clench around him. I wanted this to last.

He finally started to move, pumping his hips slowly as he braced himself on one hand, the other holding one of my legs up. He pressed his lips against the side of my neck, his breathing steady but hard. I pulled him closer so we were chest to chest, which changed the spot he was hitting inside me. I sucked in a breath and dug my fingers into his hair. It was silky soft, contrasting the slight scratchiness of his chest hair against me.

Clark started going faster, nipping my neck and propping himself up on his hands again. He looked down at me intensely, those blue eyes capturing mine. I had boyfriends in the past who I thought I was in love with, but eye contact like this during sex was always off limits. This felt natural, and only made all of it so much better, seeing the way his brow furrowed when I clenched around him, or the way he bit his bottom lip when I met his thrusts with my own.

He abruptly pulled out and flipped me onto my side, sliding back into me. My bottom leg was between his, and he had his arm looped under my top one. It made his cock hit a spot I didn’t realize could feel so good.

“Oh holy fuck,” I moaned.

“Yeah?” He looked pleased, raking his eyes up and down my body. “More?”

I could only nod and clutch my sheets while moaning with every thrust. He started fucking me harder and harder, making bed knock against my wall and creak, the cheap piece of shit.

“Mm, are my neighbors home?” I asked in between his thrusts.

He slowed down for a second. “Nope. Make as much noise as you want, Lo. Let me hear you.”

He made me make more noise by smacking my ass, just hard enough for him to probably leave a handprint. I loved it, especially when he grabbed a handful of my ass with a squeeze after, extending the burn. He looked down at his cock disappearing into my pussy, saying something I couldn’t hear under his breath. His breath hitched as he pounded me harder, and my eyes fluttered closed in pleasure.

“Lois, your pussy feels so good, so much better than I dreamed,” he said, followed by yet another of his sexy moans. One hand snuck between my legs and he rubbed my clit.

I had never heard Clark use a word like “pussy.” It was hot.

“You’ve been dreaming of fucking me, Clark? Fantasizing about me when you’re touching yourself?” I asked on the few gasps I could take.I squeezed my eyes shut harder as I felt my climax start to build.

“Yes,” he said, his hand tightening on my hip. “For six damn years.”

The thought of Clark in his bed at night, jerking off and thinking of me the way I’d thought of him, sent me careening over the edge. I came so hard that I couldn’t make a sound. I could only clench around Clark’s cock deep inside me and hold the sheets like something was going to blow me away. Even though he had to know I came, Clark kept fucking me hard like he was trying to take me there. It was a dip in the rollercoaster, but then I started going all the way back up. I rubbed my clit and came again, just as hard as before. Clark groaned, his lips sliding down to the side of my neck. His breath hitched for a moment before he grunted in satisfaction, his thrusts slowing down.

He stayed still, braced on his hands, his breath slowing down. He pulled out, then went to dispose of the condom. When he came back, he was smiling and relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen in a while.I scooted over so he could slide into bed next to me, which he did. He opened the arm closest to me and I snuggled up to him, resting my head on his shoulder. He was dry, unlike me, and the perfect temperature. I could have lived in this position for the rest of my life.

God, how could I be so damn stupid to not make a move sooner?

I smiled like an idiot into his skin and draped a leg across his. His breathing was slow, like he was drifting off to sleep. But then, he shifted a little so he could look at me.

“Can I ask you something?” He was smiling a little.

“Sure.”

“Did you ask me to come build and fix things for you because it turned you on?” He asked.

“Oh, my _god_.” I buried my face into his chest again. “You could tell. You could totally tell.”

“I could.” He kissed the top of my head like he’d done it a hundred times. “But I liked it.”

“Okay, I can’t be mad at your amazing use of your powers, especially since I’m pretty sure my legs are still jelly because of that,” I said. “By the time tonight’s over I know I won’t be able to walk straight for at least a day or two.”

Clark chuckled, the sound deep in his chest. “You know it, huh?”

“I do.” I kissed his neck and roll on top of him. “Let’s make it happen, Smallville.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) Comments and kudos are deeply appreciated, even if I don't reply!


End file.
